


Wouldn´t it be nice?

by ATenderCuriosity



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Ficlet, Flashbacks, Gay Billy Hargrove, M/M, Stranger Things 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22210489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ATenderCuriosity/pseuds/ATenderCuriosity
Summary: Here’s what really happend to Billy in California.A reimagining of the memories Eleven saw in Billy´s mind.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Wouldn´t it be nice?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a reimagining of the memories of California Eleven saw in Billy’s mind (shown in Stranger Things season 3 chapter 6).
> 
> Trigger warning for canon-typical homophobia, slurs and racism coming from Billy’s father.

There’s a boy.

He’s young. Ten, maybe eleven. Still missing a tooth. His hair ocean-wet.

He’s running out of the water, towards a woman standing on the otherwise empty beach.

The woman, she’s beautiful with her wind-swept hair and kind eyes. She’s laughing, cheering for the boy running towards her.

“You did it!”, the woman congratulates him.

“Did you see that?”, the boy asks, eyes wide with excitement.

“Yeah, I saw that”, the woman answers him . She plants a kiss on his forehead.

“That wave was at least seven feet!

"I don’t know what it was but it almost gave me a heart attack.” Her hand rests on his shoulder.

“10 more minutes?”, the boys asks.

She hesitates. Eyes flicking quickly to the ocean and then back to the boy in front of her. “Yeah, OK. 10 more minutes. But not any longer than that or Dad will be mad.” Her small falters just the slightest bit at the last few words.

“OK”, he says and with that he runs back to his surfboard eager to return to the waves.

Behind him he hears his mother call. “Billy, watch out for rip currents.”

°°°

Billy tries to run but his father is already behind him, grapping him by the sleeve of his baseball jersey.

“Hey! Billy stop. What the hell is wrong with you? What did we talk about, huh? You gotta swat.”

His father is now standing before him, knees bent so their eyes are on one level. He still has his sons arm in his slightly too tight grasp. Billy’s eyes flick away from his father intense stare and to the bat still in his hands.

“I… I know” , he stammers.

“You afraid you’re going to get hurt? Is that it?” His grip tightens.

“No?” He doesn’t know what his father wants to hear. Just wants him to stop.

“Then what? What? What is it? Do I have a pussy for a son?”, his father screams

“Leave me alone.” Billy cries out and tears away from his father’s grasp.

“That’s right. Run like you always do. ”

°°°

It’s the first time in a week that he has heard from her.

“I don’t understand. Please mom.”

“I can’t come home, Billy. I am sorry. I just… can’t.” Her voice is quiet on the other line.

“Why not? Don’t do this. Come home.”

“Everything will be fine, Billy. Just stay with your Dad. Try not to upset him, OK? I will visit you soon. ”

“No! How long? How long? Mom, I miss you.”

But the line is already dead.

°°°

They are standing in the kitchen. The work surface is littered with cigarettes and empty bottles.

Billy, now a teenager, is backed up against the table.

“Where were you last night?”, his father demands, spit flying from his mouth. “Where the f*ck were you?”

“I told you. I was with Wendy from school.” Billy wills himself to look his father right into his wild eyes.

“Stop lying to me!” He steps closer to Billy, his face a violent red.

“I am not lying to you!” Billy tries to keep keep his voice steady.

“You saw him again, didn’t you?” His father roughly graps his arms, his fingers digging into Billy's skin. “That fucking worthless piece of shit! Did you?”

"Get away from me!", Billy screams back at him. He tries to shake off the other men's grip but then his father slaps him square across the face. The impact sends Billy stumbling. He falls to the ground, his throbbing cheek colliding with the cheap lineuleum floor. His head is spinning.

“You goddamn f**got!”, his father spits at him. “I told you to keep away from people like that! I told you! As if it’s not already enough that you’re fucking f**! This is why your mother fucking left us! You ruined this family! It’s all your fault!”

°°°

It’s the beach again. This time at night. Small ripples break underneath the moonlight on the ocean’s endless surface.

Billy is sitting in the sand with his legs crossed beneath him, his pants and already short sleeves rolled up to accommodate the lingering heat. His eyes are focused on the ground before him where his right hand is tracing shapes in the still warm sand. Short curls fall before his face, barely covering a bruise on his right cheek.

Next to him sits a boy. He’s Billy’s age. 16, maybe 17. Handsome, with amber eyes and dark brown skin. The moonlight settles on his kind features. His eyes are alert, focused on Billy.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

He reaches for Billy’s bruised cheek with a gentle hand and carefully pushes away a curl. Billy doesn’t flinch away. He would if it were anyone else. Instead, he looks up and let’s the other boy's feather-light fingertips caress his bruised skin for a moment.

“Not really", Billy answers the question.

“OK, you don’t have to”, the other boy says. “You can always stay at my house if things get… too bad at home”, he adds. “You know my mom loves you. She says you are the only one who really appreciates her cooking. Everytime I complain about her food she goes ’ Isaiah, why are not more like your friend Billy? He always finishes every plate without complainin’ .”

They both have to smile at that. It’s true. Mrs. Simmons had always made Billy feel more than welcome in their home. Even invited him to join the family for Sunday services, which he had politely declined.

After a moment of silence Billy speaks up again, his voice unusually soft, at least unusual to hear for anyone but the boy next to him.

“Do you think your mom would still like me if she… knew? About us?”, he asks.

Us. A word weighted with a hundred clandestine kisses. Exchanged behind the bleachers after school, in his Camaro parked under neon lights , on this beach right here with unsure hands and hungry eyes, a current of want and need and hesitation.

“I don’t know”, Isaiah answers truthfully. “But maybe that doesn’t matter. We could go, you know. Leave this town. I would miss my family, I think, but… it would be worth it. We could take a road trip in your Camaro. To Arizona maybe. See the Canyon. You could blast your godawful rock music all the way”, he laughs. “Wouldn’t it be nice? ”

At that he looks at Billy expectantly, a huge smile across his lips.

“It would”, Billy says, smiling back at him and placing his hand on Isaiah’s.


End file.
